Some Things You Do For Money
by Remmak
Summary: Hawke.   The refugee.  The champion.  The one woman who gets Bianca all green-eyed…and she just had to be born a human.     DAII - Varric, Hawke, Aveline and Bethany
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** First time in this fandom. This piece is short and unbeta-ed/edited. Just testing out the waters to see if there's any interest before I break my back writing one of my always painfully long pieces...

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><p><strong>Some Things You Do For Money…<strong>

**Or, Varric and the Women**

Hawke.

The refugee.

The champion.

The one woman who gets Bianca all green-eyed…and she just had to be born a human.

Shit.

I should have known the day I met her in the Merchant's Quarter that those auburn eyes would kill me. Then again, I should have known a lot of things…

I take full responsibility for what happened in the Deep Roads, and if I could go back in time I'd bend over and kick my own ass for idiocy instead of dragging Sunshine and her sister into that Maker-forsaken mess. Hawke's heart broke the day her sister departed, and I've spent all the years since helping her pick up the pieces, but I know things will never be the same for her.

They haven't been the same for me, either.

I spend all my days looking after _her_ now, instead of my back-stabbing brother, and all my nights staring at the ceiling of the Hanged Man, wondering how in the hells I could have fallen so hard so fast for a _human_…

The Merchant's Guild is threatening me with expulsion for all the meetings I've missed to be with her, but I've become so grossly infatuated that even the risk of losing my share in the Tethras family fortune can't move me to care.

It's like a wise man once said (oh who am I kidding? It was probably a woman): Some things you do for money…

…and some you do for love.

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><p>Varric was pleased to find the Hanged Man was sparse when he stepped out of the streets and into his little Lowtown hideaway. He'd just returned from an abnormally long and abominably boring audience with his brother, and the last thing he wanted was a crowd of human drunks delaying his evening dinner plans. Though the tavern wasn't much to look at - with it's dust-clogged corners and questionable clientele - it was home away from home for the dwarf, and he took comfort in the fact that everyone knew his name, as well as his habits…<p>

"You'll be having your usual, serah?" a half-elf hailed from where she scrubbed a scarred table near the bar.

"At your leisure, Edwina," the dwarf replied with a smile and a bow, "Your job is hard enough as it is without having to hustle."

"Pike it, Tethras," the woman replied acidly, "That silver tongue of yours won't cut the muster with me. There's some woman waiting in your suite; you've had enough of them dropping by lately to start your own brothel!"

"I'd never!" Varric exclaimed with an air of affected sincerity. He threw his gloved hands out to gesture at the hall's small gathering. "These fools couldn't afford it, and besides," he sniffed, "Why share if you don't have to?"

A mix of boos and poorly-hid laughs rippled through the room, which Edwina met with a smack on her ass an obscene gesture. "Maker take the lot of ya!"

She threw her rag down with a wet slap and stormed to the back rooms, her pointed elven nose held high. The dwarf chuckled and turned to confide in a patron too deep in his cups to care, "I love that woman. _So angry_…"

Seeing that the show was over, the crowd settled back to their beers and allowed Varric to pass unhindered to the stairs leading up to his private suite on the second floor. The corridor was empty save the Hanged Man's addle-brained steward dusting the few paintings the establishment could afford to speak of, but a warm light peeking from under the dwarf's door proved Edwina's words were true.

He fished a coin out of one of his coat pockets and flicked it with sympathy at the muttering caretaker before placing his hand on the suite's doorknob and pushing it open. A figure sat quietly at his table, lit only by the room's active fire and a single, dwindling candle. He knew it was Hawke by the chair she had chosen - always the one furthest from his own - but his whimsical side couldn't help but note how different she looked seated as opposed to standing.

She was a tall woman, even by human standards, but lean and ungainly in a way that belied the speed and accuracy she exhibited in combat. Relaxed as she was, the jerkiness of her movements wasn't obvious, and she could be taken for any of Kirkwall's commoners, instead of the reluctant Fereldan smuggler he knew her to be.

A smile played across his generous mouth as he shut the door behind him and crossed the room to be at her side. He was about to greet her with a newly-formed nickname when he caught sight of the hand headed for her mouth.

"Maker's breath, Hawke!"

The woman jumped at his sudden exclamation and dropped her soup-filled spoon back into the steaming bowl before her. She whipped her head around to stare at him in bewilderment, face splattered with grease. "What?" she demanded anxiously.

Varric completed his course of the room in two hasty strides and reached across her to pull the bowl away. He planted his feet and put his hands on his hips before waving at the dirt-brown sludge. "You were really gonna eat that?" he asked incredulously.

She shrugged her ample shoulders and eyed the stolen meal. "I'm hungry…"

"Wild dogs aren't _that_ hungry," the dwarf replied, snatching up the bowl and heading back to the door where he left it to be taken away outside. He returned to the table and took his customary seat by the fire with a shake of his head. "Look Hawke, I know you're eager to get to the Deep Roads, but there's no point in cutting costs to save your share if it means you'll die before we get there."

"From the stew or from starvation?" Hawke asked with an annoyed pout.

Varric grinned at the barb, but leaned forward and tapped the table with two fingers. "The kitchen will open as soon as the sun sets, which should be any minute now. The staff will bring up a proper meal then."

"You've got them trained that well, do you?"

"I've been here a long time, Hawke. I'm their best customer."

"A declaration I dare not doubt," a new voice interjected lightly. The two pre-occupied parties quit their bickering long enough to face the newcomer with surprise.

"Aveline!" Hawke smiled.

The stately woman standing in the doorway inclined her head and returned the warm expression. "Hawke, Varric. I hope you two aren't busy tonight."

The dwarf raised a critical eyebrow and rolled his golden-brown eyes in Hawke's direction. "Just protecting my investment, _as always_..."

"Hmph," she huffed back, "His cash cow, more like." She scooted back from the table to untie a pouch at her waist and drop it unceremoniously onto the table in front of her. It landed heavily and Varric's face pinched.

"You have all that gold and you were about to eat that hot mess?" he demanded with a jerk of his thumb in the offending foods direction.

"Some of us have a family to support Varric, not the other way around. I can't keep mother, fund the expedition _and_ afford suckling pig."

"Suckling pig, Hawke?" Varric exasperated, "Maker! Somebody get this woman a brandy…"

"That's what nobles eat, isn't it?"

Aveline's green eyes darted between the two as she followed the curious conversation. "What _are_ you two talking about?"

"Hawke's death wish," the dwarf replied tartly.

"I _don't_ have a death wish. I have an empty stomach."

"I have leftover rations, if you like," the red head offered as she took a chair alongside her squabbling companions.

"Oh don't encourage her," Varric groaned, burying his face in a leather palm.

The group sat in silence for a moment before Aveline took the opportunity to turn them towards business. "Look, if the two of you aren't intent on fighting each other all night, I could use your help with something, and if we're going to go, we need to go tonight. This won't wait."

"What's the problem?" Hawke asked, leaning forward to rest her chin in her hands upon the stew-stained tabletop.

"An ambush, in the Wounded Coast. Or the possibility of one, at least. My contacts have been passing along some disturbing information - information worth investigating, and if it turns out to be true, I won't be able to handle it on own. I need your daggers," she eyed Hawke then turned to Varric, "And your crossbow. Also, I'd prefer at least _one_ of you sober."

"I'm sitting right here…" the dwarf muttered defensively.

"I'd love to help you, Aveline, but it's late and I haven't eaten all day," Hawke said weakly, "You aren't even sure your information is good."

"Please, Hawke, I know it's late and a bit of a trip, but I _have _to do this. I'm going to go, whether you come or not, but you should know that if I go alone I may not come back."

Varric cracked his knuckles and swung his strong jaw to observe the dithering expression on Hawke's face. A little push and he could convince her.

"You aren't the kind of person to abandon a friend, Hawke," he told her, "You've stuck with me all this time, after all. I think we should check it out. Having the guard owe us one could be handy in the future."

Aveline gave him a mild scowl but he only shrugged and waited for Hawke's reply. He could see the woman's brown eyes darting in her head as she weighed her emotions against her hunger pains, and decided to make one last push. "I'll get you a suckling pig, Hawke."

She brought her head up and her contorted face cleared. "You better not be lying…"

Varric reached back and drew out Bianca. He laid the crossbow across his lap and grinned. "Shoot it myself if I have to. Now, how's that?"

He could tell she was still ambivalent, but her better half won over as usual. "Fine. We'll go to the Wounded Coast."

The three stood up and pushed in their chairs as a barmaid entered the room, a tray balanced precariously at her side. "You call for a brandy?"

Aveline reached out with a long arm and took the glass before Hawke could protest. She swung it sharply into Varric's face. "Stow it, dwarf."

He gave the redhead a wary glance and took the offered cup. "Don't have to ask me twice…"

Hawke watched in horror as he downed it in one quaff. She lashed out at him as the guardswoman steered her by the shoulders to the door. "Bastard!"

"You'll thank me later, Hawke," Varric replied, offering the empty glass back to the barmaid, "You'll thank me later."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thanks to those of you kind enough to leave some comments for me. Sorry for the slow updating, but I work full time and am a full time student so I am rather loaded down in my personal life. Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Some Things You Do For Money…<strong>

**Or, Varric and the Women**

Given how thin she was when we met, I'd never have guessed Hawke had a bottomless pit for a stomach. She could eat a whole horse and come back for the harness without getting a hair heavier, too, the lucky woman…

I promised her once that if we ever wound up in Orzammar, I'd introduce her to the King as the Paragon of pie-eating contests. Hah!

…but maybe that gives you the wrong impression.

Hawke is no glutton. She never was. She was just a rail-thin refugee who could never be sure where her next meal would come from, so when food _was_ available, she'd do what any good rogue would do and get while the getting was good. If she could save a sovereign in the process, all the better.

Or so _she_ thought anyway.

There were hundreds of Fereldans in Kirkwall back then, dying every day from disease and depravation. As if her own family wasn't enough of a burden, she tried to take on _their_ sorrows, too. She wanted to _save_ them, and for a brief while I worried she might die trying, but events came to pass that made her realize she couldn't solve the world's problems with penny-pinched coins.

If it were _that_ easy, the massacre at the Gallows never would have happened.

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><p><em>Somewhere on Sundermount…<em>

"I'm glad you decided to join us, Sunshine," Varric said as he offered his hand to the mage trailing a short distance behind him. She took it with a grateful smile and, with the dwarf's help, managed to crest the final step of a trail leading up the south side of Sundermount. With a deep breath, the woman straightened and pushed her dark hair behind her ears.

"Thank you, Varric," she replied pleasantly, "It's good to get out of the gaze of the Templars once and awhile. I just hope I can be of some use to you."

"Well, I can't speak for Aveline, but your presence sure makes _me_ feel better."

"And my sister?" the woman asked, her eyebrows turning up in concern.

Varric waved his hand through the air and continued down the path thoughtfully. "She doesn't want you to get hurt, that's all. No different from me and my own sibling."

"You hate your sibling…"

"I don't 'hate' him," the dwarf dissembled, "I just…" He stopped for a moment as he recalled the words of a dwarven contact he'd met with Hawke some nights ago. "Find him hard to take."

"I see," Bethany said as her head drooped. She lifted her eyes to where the stars were just beginning to peek out of the heavens. "And does my sister think of me the same way?"

Varric turned to the girl her, his face like stone. "No. Hawke places a value on you that even the Circle can't match. She feels terrible about what happened to your twin, and she doesn't want the same to happen to you. Believe me when I say she only wants to keep you safe, from Templars and otherwise."

A soft smile crept across the mage's face, and even in the darkness of dusk her blue eyes twinkled. Somewhere in the brush a bird cooed quietly. "You always know what to say, Varric."

"Not always," he admitted, "Hawke's eating habits leave me speechless from time to time."

Bethany laughed. "Will you be in this good a mood all night?"

The dwarf shrugged and continued once more down the trail, his human companion at his side. "Why wouldn't I be? I'm on a midnight stroll with three beautiful women, and they're all taller than me."

"Most human men would consider that a bad thing, you know."

"Really? Then I guess their loss is my gain."

ooooo

Further up the mountain, and just out of earshot, Aveline and Hawke were on point. The latter scanned the swaying brush at their sides warily, while the guardswoman kept her eyes transfixed on the bend in the road ahead of them. Their patrol had been quiet thus far, with little but the clink of mail, skittering of night animals and snatches of dialog going on behind them to interrupt the calm. Even the moon, wide and rising by minute, was deceptively comforting. The soporific effect of its pale light across the harsh landscape was proving difficult for the red-haired woman to resist.

"Hawke," she said suddenly, softly.

"Mmm?"

"I want to thank you again for agreeing to come out here with me. Your friendship has done much to keep me going this past year."

The rogue ceased her watch to look at her friend. "And yours for me."

Aveline smiled warmly. "Good to hear. I hope that means you'll take me seriously when I say that this expedition is taking a toll on you."

Hawke's eyebrows knit and she dropped her gaze to the dirt. "More then my work for Athenril did?"

The guardswoman took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She'd expected resistance, but it was too late to backpedal and she didn't want to waste the timely opportunity to speak to her friend alone. "That's not what I mean and you know it," she said evenly, "Look at yourself. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep? You're running ragged for a chance at riches that may not even exist, and scaring me to death in the process."

"_You? _Scared?" the rogue replied with a grin.

"Don't change the subject - and _don't _tell me you're fine. Anyone with eyes can see that you're not."

"I'm just tired."

"That's the same thing Wesley said," Aveline returned with a hard edge, "Right before he…" She faltered only briefly at the memory of her husband and the part she played in his death, but Hawke still saw the familiar flash of pain.

The rogue's expression sobered and she sighed. "The blight is behind us now, Aveline."

"I _know_," the guardswoman said, more harshly than she'd intended. "Just…." She swung the large shield off her back and held it up to her friend in inspiration. "Just look. You didn't save my life in Lothering for me to watch you wither here."

Hawke halted and glanced at the shields shining surface. She wanted to open her mouth and argue, but the sound of Aveline's blade striking the beaten metal pointedly chased it out of her. Over her shoulder she could hear Varric and her sister approaching, and the last thing she wanted was an audience to add to the unexpected confrontation. With a reluctant sigh, she leaned forward to inspect herself, aware that the guardswoman's green eyes would be watching closely for her reaction.

The image was blurry under the weak starlight, but Hawke could make out enough detail to recognize her own unwelcome visage. Her short brown hair needed washing; it hung in thick clumps around her narrow face like rotting rope. Dark circles peeked out through the tanned skin around her eyes, and her lips were all but bloodless. The angles of her face were harsher than she remembered them, and she tried to tell herself it was just the shadows, but her heart lurched at the real reason. Her year of servitude had changed her - made her thinner and deadlier and more impatient. Just yesterday she'd snapped at her sister in a way that would have appalled her mother had she been around to hear them. It appalled her now to recall it…

Hawke's mouth twitched at the corners and her eyes started to burn as she traced her final, defining feature: an angry red gash across the bridge of her pointed nose. Dry skin was flaking off around its ragged edges, and it had darkened from its usual irritated pink to the color of wine - a sickly maroon shade that made the woman shiver. She swallowed hard and blinked away the wetness that threatened to gather at the edges of her wide eyes. She looked up at Aveline and made a jest in a cracked voice, "At least I'm not white as a sheet anymore…"

The guardswoman frowned, but her expression softened. She lowered the shield to rest in the sand at her feet and put a hand on Hawke's shoulder. "I'm only concerned, Hawke. We all are. I know you think that this expedition is the only way for you to change things, but there's no reason to rush it. They can't pick up and leave without you; Varric said so himself."

"I thought you didn't trust him."

"I don't trust his brother," Aveline clarified, "Or any member of the Merchant's Guild for that matter. I swear, if that dwarf brings you trouble I'll have his head _and_ Varric's."

Hawke's spirits lifted at the vow and she smiled. "Why don't you come with me then?"

The redhead lifted her chin at the challenge and took a moment to consider. "Maybe I will…but not before we sort out this business. We should be getting close, now. Let's let the others catch up before we continue."

The wind picked up and blew clouds across the face of the moon, obscuring Sundermount and everything that might be creeping around it. Aveline and her party were little more than shades when they gathered to discuss the upcoming combat.

"How are we supposed to get the drop on them in this mess?" Varric whispered harshly, "Bianca and I can't shoot what we can't see."

"That's a good question, actually. I'd have thought dwarves would developed some night vision over the centuries spent underground," Hawke mused.

"Not the time," the guardswoman cut in before the conversation could devolve into another of the pair's battles of rapier wit, "Remember what we're here for."

"Right," the dwarf agreed with a caustic glare at his smugly-smiling counterpart.

"Light is not of concern," Aveline explained, her voice taking the tone she used when she was on the job, "In fact, this may be to our favor. Patrols normally carry torches, and if this ambush is out here, they'll be looking for them. They believe they have the element of surprise, and if I know this sort of low-lives at all that will make them cocky."

She drew her blade and drew a crude map in the sand. "The road forks up ahead, and that's where they'll be hiding. It's the only part of the path wide enough to encircle a traveler and still remain of sure-footing. The road dips as it enters the clearing, so we'll have the benefit of the high-ground. Varric, Bethany, I want the two you there; you can get the range you need without having to worry about the main skirmish. Hawke, you'll be with me, but I want you mobile as much as possible. Don't get cornered - if anyone tries to retreat the way they came they'll be too far for Varric and we can't let them escape to warn whoever they're working for."

"And what if you get too far to heal? I won't be able to reach my sister at the far side of the gorge either," Bethany pointed.

"That's a risk we have to take. Hawke can stand up to damage better than you can, and if things get bad, she can toss one of those flasks of hers. That what usually works when we start getting swarmed, anyway…"

"Actually…" the rogue piped up sheepishly, "I don't have any."

Aveline's head snapped around critically. "What?"

"Well, it's not like I was expecting to be pulled away from dinner for a last minute rendezvous with ambushers in the wilderness!"

"I wasn't either," the dwarf gloated as he pulled a small glass vial out form a pocket hidden on the inside of his coat. It glinted dangerously in the sparse light. "I'm a little ashamed of you, Hawke. Here I thought I was traveling with a rogue of the highest caliber."

The human snatched the flask and scowled. "Shutup."

Varric chuckled before turning to Bethany and taking one of the hands she was busy folding over and over in worry. "Aveline's right, Sunshine. The toxins in that thing will knock 'em on their asses. Best you stay back with me."

The mage hesitated, but gave a reluctant nod as the dwarf squeezed her hand in reassurance.

"It's settled then," Aveline said, "I don't suppose there's anything _else_ I should know about?" She received silence, and, taking the response as a negative, began advancing toward the ambush site. A blood-chilling chorus of blades against sheaths, bolts being drawn back, and the crackle of arcane ozone followed after her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Some Things You Do For Money…  
>Or, Varric and the Women<strong>

I've written before of how Hawke and I met. About how, on one fateful day in the Merchant's Guild, a handsome and noble dwarf came to the aid of a damsel in distress and her dark-haired sister. Heh. But as with many things that have come out of my mouth, that's only half the story.

See, shortly after the blight in Fereldan, a new smuggling ring appeared in Kirkwall. It was run by a elven woman named Athenril, and it was starting to hurt Guild business. Naturally, Guild business is family business - _my_business - so I decided to do some investigating into this rogue element of the city's economy. Turned out the elf owed much of her success to a recruit bought off from amongst the refugees that were flooding the Gallows, and in time, I learned the new hire's name.

_Hawke._

I wanted to see what made her so special, so saw to it she was given some bad information concerning an assignment of hers that had managed to find it's way to me at the Hanged Man. I was there that night, in the shadows at the docks, when she arrived to find a rival cartel where she'd expected a pick-up. I watched her make short work of the opposition with a fighting style I'd never seen before and decided she was dangerous enough to warrant further investigation.

I had her tailed as much as was practical, and was surprised when I'd gathered enough intel to start piecing together her story. She'd been indentured, right along with her sibling, to cover the cost of entry into Kirkwall - a fee that never should have been required much less paid, and by her own Uncle of all people…

I felt…sorry for Hawke, and what had started as a mission to remove a thorn from the Guild's side turned into me making amends for complicating her already troubled life with my misdirection. A lucky break here, a package at her door there, and I restored the balance between us. Hawke was not my enemy. In many ways, she was me…

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><p><em>In the Kirkwall guard barracks…<em>

"Aveline will ring your fat neck if she comes out and catches you."

The chastened dwarf just laughed and lifted his pen-holding hand to gesture at the door to the guard captain's office, where angry voices streamed loudly. "Are you kidding me? This is priceless..." He glanced back down at the well-worn pocketbook in his offhand and scribbled the muffled profanities giddily.

Hawke frowned in disappointment that her barb hadn't hit home and turned her brown eyes to their surroundings. Her sister shifted in her seat and bit her lip as a smashing sound rang through the foyer.

"The captain doesn't seem very grateful for all the work we've done," she observed softly.

Varric shrugged against the doorframe that supported his sturdy bulk, "Maybe he doesn't like being shown up by a woman."

"Three women," Hawke interjected.

"_Four_," the dwarf shot back, "And a very charming man..."

"Bianca doesn't count."

"And why not?

"Because she's inanimate?"

"You're hurting her feelings, Hawke."

"And you're just trying to weasel two shares of the reward."

"I don't think there is a reward…"

Hawke's face fell. "What?"

"Aveline did say this was a favor," Varric reasoned, "And like Bethany said, it doesn't sound like the captain's real happy with the hand we've given him. I'd wager all we're likely to get is tossed out of here on our collective asses."

The woman's face screwed up and she sputtered. "B-but…" Her hand went to her shoulder were an arrow-shaft sized hole marred her leather tunic. "I got shot!"

"You shouldn't have been standing there."

Hawke's hand went out again like lighting, flipping an obscene gesture in the dwarf's direction. He only cackled in a rich baritone and turned his attention back to his writing with renewed enthusiasm. A group of off-duty guards strolled past the group, scowling at the noise and prompting Bethany to intervene.

"It's wasn't a total waste," she said to her sister cheerfully, "Aveline is happy now and Varric said he'd buy us dinner, remember?"

"Whatever you want, Sunshine," the dwarf said in support without looking up from his work.

Hawke groaned pitifully and leaned forward to hang her head in her hands between her knees. "We're never going to get out of this place…"

"I can't imagine Aveline will be too much longer," Bethany replied.

"I don't mean _here_," the rogue complained, waving at their surroundings weakly, "I mean Kirkwall. We've faced nothing but hardship since we got off at the Gallows, and despite doing all I can to change it, we're getting nowhere."

"That's not true. We're out from under Athenril."

"Are we really? What's to stop her from coming down on us in the future? The goodness of her cold, black heart?"

Varric perked at the smuggler's name and put his pocketbook away. He pulled his weight off the wall and moved to stand before the two women, casting a furtive glance through an open portal to the guard's mess hall as he did so. "Athenril won't be back to bother you, Hawke," he said quietly, "She's being…handled."

The woman gave him a suspicious glance but didn't press the matter. Her eyes roamed the floor and her scarred face pinched with worry and frustration. "That still leaves Mother in a hovel while Gamlen cavorts with whores."

Bethany sighed at the truth in her sister's statement and turned to Varric sadly. "It's true. His vices helped put us where we are and yet he digs the pit ever deeper…"  
>"Does your mother know?" the dwarf asked.<p>

The siblings glanced at each other before Hawke replied. "We've not mentioned encountering him at the Rose, but I'm sure she has her suspicions. Sometimes he comes home stinking of cheap perfume, and I've caught him eyeing Bethany in ways an Uncle shouldn't."

Varric's stomach turned a little as the mage shivered and made a moue of disgust. A frown of his own tugged at the corners of his generous mouth at the thought of the human offal that was Gamlen setting his lecherous gaze on the girl. He could admit that he saw the appeal; Bethany was warm and effervescent in a way that could make a man feel young again, and she was endowed in places her older sister was not, but there were lines in life that were never meant to be crossed, and this was one of them.

His leather gloves creaked as his fists clenched at his sides. "It's like that, is it?"

"Not for long," Hawke replied, her face hardening and taking on a resolute air, "If we'd have gotten paid for tonight, we'd be out to the Deep Roads tomorrow."

Bethany drew back in surprise and the dwarf's jaw dropped. "And when were you gonna tell me?" he demanded.

"Or me," the mage added, though not unkindly.

"When I had enough gold to insure we could not only afford to buy into the expedition but get new gear and provide for Mother in our absence as well, that's when."

Varric stepped closer to the woman, his previous concerns forgotten. He put a hand on Hawke's knee and spoke slowly. "Exactly how much gold do you have, Hawke?"

Her eyes darted around to make sure none of the guards were eaves-dropping before she answered softly. "Fifty-nine sovereigns."

"Fifty-nine?" the dwarf repeated in a harsh whisper, "Was one more sovereign really going to make a difference?"

"I like sixty…it's a nice even number."

"She's superstitious that way," Bethany explained as a vein along Varric's temple began to stand out.

"Sixty sovereigns," he muttered again, taking back his hand and placing them both on either side of his head. He paced up and down the scarlet carpet a few times while the sisters sat in expectant silence. At last he sighed and let his broad shoulders relax. He cocked his head in a mix of admiration and excitement at the women, his honey-colored eyes meeting Hawke's auburn ones with newfound appreciation. "I don't supposed you've already picked out your equipment?"

"Actually, I-"

"Tell me who the vendors are and I'll get whatever they're asking halved."

"You can do that?" Bethany asked.

"I could move Sundermount for you, Sunshine."

The mage smiled and turned to her sister. "I still want sixty sovereigns," the latter said as she adamantly crossed her arms, "One more or no go."

"Shit," Varric exclaimed, "I could scrounge that up in bar bets. Let's get Aveline and head back to the Hanged Man. I still owe you lovely ladies dinner…"

ooooo

_At the Hanged Man…_

Traffic to the second-floor suite of the Hanged Man was busy that evening, leaving the bar's usuals a touch miffed at the lack of attention. Trays of food fit for a prince went up as empty mugs came down, and neither hide nor hair of the establishment's resident dwarf had been seen all night. As a result, the mood in the main hall was dour, and it didn't get any better when a platinum-haired elf of similar attitude entered unaccompanied with a broadsword across his back.

Patrons leaned into their drinks and shied away as the man passed, their eyes tracing the odd markings that stood out starkly from his dark body. The elf ignored them, making his way across the room to a serving girl at the foot of the stairs in the rear.

"Is the dwarf Varric present?" he asked her in an impossibly deep voice that made the woman do a double-take.

She eyed him warily at first, then put a hand on her hip and threw back her shoulders in an obvious attempt to highlight her not-inconsiderable assets. "Oh, aye, been keeping the kitchen busy all evening, too."

"Really," the elf said flatly, looking past her to the half-cracked door on the stoop above, "And who does he entertain tonight?"

"Some Fereldan women. None of them worth the effort if you ask me," she said with a laugh and a suggestive touch to his armored shoulder.

"Is there a scarred one among them?"

"Ugh, worst of the lot. What kind of man wants a woman with a bop like that on her nose, eh?"

The elf took the barmaid's roaming hands with a scowl and tightened his grip upon them pointedly. "The kind who favors function over fleeting form," he said icily. The woman's face contorted with unease and her released her.

"Go back to your business," he told her, "Your drunks aren't drunk enough."

He brushed by her without waiting for a response and mounted the first stair. As he trudged to the top, he could hear voices escaping through Varric's door. A confident and clearly angry one was loudest, followed by another that was muffled through what was undoubtedly a mouthful of food. The dwarf's rich laughed reached the elf's fine-tuned ears as he took the last step, followed by a final feminine tone he hadn't heard before.

Fenris' pale eyebrows pinched as he placed his hand upon the doorknob. His last meeting with the woman he knew only as Hawke had not been a pleasant one, and yet she had succeeded in providing a service he'd desperately needed, buying him time if not peace-of-mind in the process. The deception responsible for their initial encounter weighed on him, as did the favor he'd yet to repay, and he hoped that by approaching her on neutral ground he could somehow broker a truce between them. Though he didn't relish the thought of an audience at their second meeting, he couldn't put it off any longer. Perhaps, he mused hopefully, the presence of her friends would put the woman at ease.

He pushed in the door and took in the happy scene before him.

Varric sat at the head of the table, half-hidden by a mountain of coin, with Aveline at his side. The guardswoman had a fork in one hand but largely ignored her food in favor of a heated conversation with the clever-eyed rogue across from her. The latter's plate was piled high with roast that was disappearing down her throat even as she held up her end of the argument with impish zeal. A number of dishes, some covered, some not, littered the table, along with two low candles and a stack of parchment. A woman Fenris didn't recognize sat reading them quietly as the party went on around her. It was she who finally glanced up to notice him standing dumbly in the doorway.

Her eyes widened immediately and she rose from her seat so fast it nearly tipped backwards. Aveline was up next, putting a protective arm out before the girl and giving Hawke a meaningful glare in the process. The rogue stood and turned sharply, her face already blackening. One of her hands went to the dirk concealed in her boot even as the dwarf rushed around the table to intercept her.

"Hawke, calm down," he said, throwing his hands out in a placating manner, "I'm sure he's just here for cards."

"You _play_with him?" the woman demanded in disbelief.

"I'll play with anyone who has the time and the coin," Varric answered, "You know that. Now, why don't you sit back down before you choke on something."

"I'll give you something to choke on!" she hissed.

"Hawke, I mean it. Take it to the street if you have to but you're not shedding blood in here, understand?"

It was rare that the dwarf took on a serious tone, but when he did, Hawke knew better than to cross him. "Fine," she said stiffly, "Come on, Bethany. We're going."

The mage took the long way around the table to join her sister with Aveline following shortly behind, a disapproving look on her freckled face. Varric's shoulders slumped and he sighed.

"Hawke, don't do this-"

"It's late, and someone needs to look after Mother," she dismissed as she and her sibling made for the door Fenris prudently edged away from, "We can talk about expedition arrangements in the morning."

"Expedition?" the elf spoke at last, a hint of urgency in his voice, "You're ready then?"

Hawke paused in the doorway after Aveline and her sister had exited. "Not that it's any of your business."

"I would go with you, Hawke. I still owe you for your…help."

She laughed. "The last thing I want in the Deep Roads with me and my sister is a lying, mage-hating elf like you." She turned to Varric and gave a stiff nod, "Thank you for dinner."

The woman turned on her booted heel and left the two men in a semi-stunned deadlock. The elf hadn't anticipated such a strong reaction to his presence, and the dwarf hadn't anticipated his presence at all. After several moments, Fenris spoke in apology, "That girl is Hawke's sister, I take it?"

Varric returned to his chair and slumped sullenly. "Yup."

"I'm sorry…should I order another round?"

"Something stiff I think."


End file.
